Those of us who lean towards mysticism (you know who you are) are afflicted with a terrible longing—to know the face of the Divine, to see the Unseen, to feel that we are being supported by something larger than ourselves.

We are also terrified of it. And so when the Spirit comes, we turn the other way, and refuse its offerings, and convince ourselves that we’ve been kicked out of the garden.

The great work of trusting the Unseen is not about accessing some power we don’t already possess, it’s about learning how to recognize the signs that are already here, and saying yes to what comes.

Several years ago, I went through a four-year, dark-night-of-the-soul initiation of chronic physical illness, where I had everything stripped from me—my ability to function, my work in the world, many of my friends, and who I knew myself to be. I was in a free fall of uncertainty, and when I spiraled down to the bottom what was left was the Divine.

It was this relationship that sustained me.

In recent years, in my work as a somatic psychotherapist, healer, and guide, I’ve come to learn an essential lesson that’s made all the difference in my life: When “I” try and “heal” anyone from my own personal will, I end up feeling burnt out, exhausted, frustrated, and burdened from having taken on their “stuff.”

When on the other hand, I partner with the Divine,when I stop doing and start surrendering to that larger force of grace that has the ability to transform everything, miracles occur.

On Tuesday, I fell in the shower and cracked my tailbone… and it was one of the most sacred experiences I have ever had.

Let me explain.

I was groggy, not yet awake, and my mind was spinning. The night before I had had thick dreams about being on trial. My attorney had abandoned me right when it was my time to defend myself and I felt betrayed. I woke up hung-over with fear. I knew something big was unraveling inside of me, and it had to do with my relationship to victimhood.

I got in the shower that morning, barely back in my body, and realized, once the water was running, that my handsoap was on the sink. I stepped out to get it, slipped, and whoosh — landed smack on my tailbone.